Page 132 of Endgame

“You and me,” she replied, turning her face to giving me her full attention. “Having a civilized conversation. Being… nice to each other? Don’t you think it’s, I don’t know, a little weird?”

I would never live it down.

I’d been a complete dick to her. She wasn’t going to forget it easily. I didn’t blame her.

“Six, I’m gonna make it up to you.”

“Just keep being like this,” she said with a contented sigh. “Be my friend, Rourke. That’s enough for me.”

I fucking hated myself for the way I had treated Six.

She never deserved the shit I’d thrown at her.

Six was the opposite of everything I’d ever known. She didn’t hang on my every word. She fought me, challenged me, never took my shit. I liked that. It was crazy refreshing.

I’d been in love before, I had experienced it, and I knew full well the emotions Six was pulling from me were drawing me closer. Hell, screw closer, I was teetering on the edge. If I let myself fall, I had a feeling there would be no way back up for me. Problem was, every time I looked at this girl, everything inside of me screamedpermanent.

Mercedes

LAST NIGHT WAS A MISTAKE, I decided. One huge, gigantic, colossal mistake. It just so happened that I was sitting in the passenger seat of the truck beside the boy who had played the leading role in said mistake, and right about now, he was looking like the best damn decision I would ever make.

I couldn’t believe I’d gotten myself into this. I was supposed to be smart and make good decisions and yet, here I was, getting in way over my head with this boy. Rourke Owens set me on fire every time he put his hands on me and I needed to do something to douse the flames.

He wasn’t making it easy for me though. Not when he was being so…nice. Damn, nice was a word I never could’ve seen myself using to describe Rourke, but there it was. Rourkewasnice, and kind, and funny, and beautiful, and a million other amazing things besides that.

Most surprising of all; Ienjoyedbeing with him. Icravedthat feeling I got every time he turned his face to look at me. And when he flashed me that megawatt smile, the one when both his dimples popped in his cheeks? God, I melted every single time.

Walk the Moon’s‘Shut up and Dance’came on the radio just as the server handed Rourke our bag of goodies from the drive thru and I squealed in delight. “Leave it on,” I begged when I noticed him reaching for the stereo. “Please. I love this song.”

“You’re such a girl,” he said with a snort, but he indulged me by turning up the volume while he pulled out of line and drove around, looking for a spot to park in the already crammed parking lot.

Grinning, I immersed myself in the lyrics, singing along animatedly to every verse.

“You’re a fucking horrible singer,” Rourke managed to choke out through fits of laughter when I was mid-song. He looked mildly horrified and thoroughly amused.

Flipping Rourke the bird, I ignored his comment and continued to sing along at the top of my lungs, throwing some serious moves as I sang.

“If Coach or any of the guys ask, you didn’t see me eating this,” Rourke said when we were parked in a spot at the end of the lot. He unwrapped his double cheeseburger and took a huge bite. “Mmmm,” he moaned. “So fucking good.”

“What?” I looked at him in curiosity. “Are you not allowed burgers or something?”

He looked over at me and grinned. “I’m on a strict diet during football season.”

I looked him up and down; taking in his huge, muscular frame and asked, “Why?” I shook my head and took another appraisal of his firm, toned body. “Rourke, you look like a fitness instructor’s wet dream.”

“Cute, Six,” Rourke chuckled as he continued to hound down the remainder of his burger before moving onto his fries. “But there’s always room for improvement.”

I stared at him. “Again,where?”

That comment earned me a kiss; one that made my toes curl and belly to rumble with hunger for something other than chicken nuggets.Damn him!

The sound of a car door slamming close by caused Rourke to break the kiss. He winked at me and I sagged against my seat, breathing hard.

“Cheap date, Owens?” a male voice called out tauntingly, and Rourke stiffened.

My gaze flew in the direction the voice had come from and I glowered at the two guys standing outside the driver’s side of Rourke’s truck.

“You sharing this one, too?” one of them asked, tapping on the window.

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